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Updated: May 5, 2025
At word from the policeman in charge he parked his car at the rear of the clubhouse among fifty others, and returned on foot to the steps. "That's young Rhuburger," someone was confiding to the Mistress. "You must have read about him. He was arrested as a Conscientious Objector, during the war. Since then, his father has died, and left him all sorts of money.
And, as she spoke, the people who had clamored loudest of mad dogs and who had called so frantically for a gun, waxed silent. The myriad glances cast at the prostrate and blubbering Rhuburger were not loving. Someone even said, loudly: "GOOD old Laddie!" As the Mistress and the Master were closing the house for the night, a car came down the drive.
It was unanimous in expelling Rhuburger from the club. Then we By the way, where's Laddie? Curled up by Lady's grave, as usual, I suppose? Poor old dog!" "No," denied the Mistress. "He's asleep in his 'cave' under the piano. He went there, of his own accord. And he ate a perfectly tremendous supper, tonight. He's he's CURED!" Lad was getting along in years.
Another deep inhalation told him all he needed to know. Not in vain had Lad sniffed so long and so carefully at those faint footprints in the road dust, at the spot where Lady died. In his throat a deep growl was born. "Hello, folks!" Rhuburger was declaiming, to a wholly unenthusiastic circle of acquaintances. "Made another record, just now.
His plangent brag was lost in a sound seldom heard on the hither side of jungle or zoo. From the group of slightly disgusted onlookers, a huge and tawny shape burst forth; hurtling through the air, straight for the fat throat of the boaster. Rhuburger, by some heaven-sent instinct, flung up his arms to shield his menaced jugular. He had no time to do more.
The Master simply commanded: "Down, Lad!" As the dog, obediently, dropped to the ground, the Master bent to examine the groaning and maudlinly weeping Rhuburger. In this Samaritan task he was joined by one or two of the club's more venturesome members who had followed him down the steps. Rhuburger was all-but delirious with fright.
And he is burning it; in double handfuls. No one seems to know just how he got into the club, here. And no one seems to " The gossipy maundering broke off short; drowned in a wild beast growl. Both the Mistress and her husband had been eyeing Rhuburger as he ascended the veranda steps in all the glory of unbelievably exquisite and gaudy raiment.
There seemed to both of them something vaguely familiar about the fellow; though neither could place him. But, to Lad, there was nothing at all vague in his recollections of the gorgeous newcomer. As Rhuburger reached the topmost step, the collie lifted his head, his nostrils dilating wide. A thrill went through him. His nearsighted eyes swept the crowd. They rested at last on Rhuburger.
And, under that fearful impact, Rhuburger reeled back from the stairhead, and went crashing down the steps, to the broad stone flagging at the bottom. Not once, during that meteoric, shriek-punctured downward flight, did Lad loose his grip on the torn forearm. But as the two struck the flagging at the bottom, he shifted his hold, with lightning speed; stabbing once more for the exposed jugular.
They threw the carburetor and the wheels and the steering gear and a lot of other parts into the lake." "Then they left their cards pinned to the dismantled machine's cushions; in case Rhuburger cares to go further into the matter. While they were doing all that, the club's Governors had a hurry-call meeting. And for once the Board was unanimous about something.
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